


Team Familiar

by FergardStratoavis



Category: Team Fortress 2, ゼロの使い魔 | Zero no Tsukaima | The Familiar of Zero
Genre: Crack, Gen, Louise Swears A Lot, Louise is so done, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23774044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FergardStratoavis/pseuds/FergardStratoavis
Summary: Louise summons not one, not two, not even three... but nine familiars?! How blessed by the Founder does one have to be? Not very, considering they're all kind of crazy... and commoners... and only one of them is actually her Familiar. Nor does she have any real control over this RED team......well, perhaps Founder just saw fit to kick her in the metaphorical taint.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Vallière downed her glass of water with a resigned sigh.

Some part of her entertained reaching for the liquor, but that just would not do. She was still on Academy’s public grounds, right in the middle of the Vestri Court, trying and failing to enjoy a midday lunch in peace. She had to remain as sober as she could, considering just how unruly her Familiars were.

...plural. How did she, a Zero with no magical skill to her name, manage to summon not one, not two, not even three – but _nine_ people all at once? Only one of them had the Familiar runes, and he was fast to voice his displeasure in a voice of a shaved bear – before the chatter exploded into gossip, confusion and laughter.

...nine commoners. Nine commoners all dressed in red for some Brimirforsaken reason, and it was up to her to wrangle them like she was a shepherd disciplining her unruly sheep. Naturally, none of the nine actually took to being Familiars with any sense of decency or gratitude. At least the jeering and ridicule from her peers eased up somewhat after Professor Colbert pointed out that a success is a success, and there is no need to call her a Zero any longer (nor that there ever was, he stressed: watching Zerbst and her sycophants shrink a little under his gaze was well-worth it).

And yet, ever since she summoned a gaggle of what was probably some odd mercenary unit, no spells of hers succeeded. She was still blowing up even the simplest cantrips, and the usual suspects (minus Kirche, oddly enough) picked up on the fact fast enough. Still, her “designated” Familiar was at least kind enough to ensure these jeers would only occur out of his earshot.

Watching Common Cold try his best to turn himself outside out to escape the withering glare from a man twice his size too was satisfying. This was Louise’s lot in life now: small fleeting pleasures that did little to assuage the main problem. A Zero continued to be a Zero, and now with this motley crew of hers, her nerves were coming apart.

“THAT IS IT!”

“Oh dear. Looks like Guiche is being a man for once.” Kirche hummed curiously from over her own lunch. Louise was grateful she had just finished her glass of water, else they would add “bad table manners” to the repertoire of things she was accused of. She peered over to where one of her “familiars” - the youngest of the nine, but still likely ten years her senior, at best; lanky, confident, with a face screaming “punch me” - was having a tense stare-down with the Academy’s local heartthrob.

Well, calling it a “stare-down” was somewhat inaccurate, considering the manboy in red seemed much more interested in his slice of cake (that he inevitably pouched off someone’s table, Louise thought) than his soon-to-be opponent. “I’ve had it with your incessant boorish flirting!” Guiche growled, pointing his rose hand at the offender. “There is a time and a place, and you possess neither nor the station! Frankly, I should have you flogged! If Vallière cannot deign to discipline you, then I will!” The man in red finished his cake without a care in the world, putting the plate back down, idly stretching and doing all kinds of minor little things to delay his answer to an increasingly agitated Guiche.

“Who are ya again?” He finally asked, and the blond’s anger gave way to utter bafflement. “Oh yeah, dat guy two-timin’ two pretty ladies.” Scratch that, back to anger. (and a touch of realization that suddenly his grounds for complaint were much less firm than expected)

“That’s… that’s different!”

“Well, since ya already said it… I’ll leave ya to them.” The gentle, reassuring pat on the shoulder would be taken as completely out of context, were it not for both Montmorency and that freshman (Katie, Louise believed her name was?) making a beeline to the heartthrob. Huh. That was actually much smarter than she would have suspected the errant manboy in red to have done. “See ya past yer whippin’!” And then he was gone, strutting away without a care in the world. Guiche, oblivious to his impending doom, took a step to stop the insolent commoner – but he didn’t get very far.

“He is being an incessant boorish flirt, true… but that was quite clever.” Kirche hummed thoughtfully. Oh yeah, another mystery of the world: the manboy in red – misleadingly called The Scout, because Louise refused to believe anyone who loved the sound of their own voice so much would be able to scout anything – was among the few men her redheaded rival was completely turned off by. Frankly, she didn’t think such men existed until yesterday.

“Scout is smarter than he lets on. He could stand to be like this more often, frankly.” Louise jumped in her seat with an inelegant squeak of surprise when another of her merry troupe – a more-appropriately named Spy – appeared out of thin air. “But I suppose solving problems with gratuitous violence is just more exciting on the whole.”

“D-don’t… don’t do that!” The man quirked his eyebrow ever so slightly at their new “master”’s reaction. They still had to work out the kinks on that one – and keep Soldier from finding out he’s not in Kansas anymore, so to say. The redhead took better to their quirks than the pinkette, merely offering a charming smile.

“Now, to make sure your slighted peer doesn’t do something we all will regret...” And then he vanished just like he came here, with a quiet “woosh” and the barely audible sound of his footsteps heading where Scout went.

“...hm. I wonder if Guiche would actually do something foolish.” Kirche hummed, watching the aforementioned heartthrob being put through hell by two women scorned.

“Like what? Challenge me to a duel?”

“Not you, probably – but your Familiar, perhaps?” _If_ The Scout was her familiar proper, Louise might have found the idea positively dreadful. A Mage challenging a non-Mage to a duel? There was no better example of a one-sided fight. Yet, with nine grown men to wrangle, she could only offer an indifferent shrug. Perhaps teaching the manboy some humility would go a long way, as long as Guiche wouldn’t do something too outrageous like try to kill him (which would no doubt get him in trouble as well).

“Honestly, it sounds like entertainment.” She sighed, finished with her lunch. “Ah, is Flame not with you?”

“No, not at all. I’m afraid I’ve been upstaged as a creature of flames by one of your own.” Ah yes, The Pyro. The weird _thing_ that had no gender, spoke no language, and had too much a fascination with fire to a point that even the others in the group were disturbed. He (It?) got along with Kirche’s salamander like house on fire. Hopefully nothing would burn from this partnership. Or at least, nothing too valuable (or alive).

“And that Gallian bookworm of a friend of yours?”

“Her name is Tabitha, first of all. And no, she’s been taken too.” The two of them decided to leave Vestri Court behind, heedless of the excited hushes of both freshmen and servants alike. “That doctor with a questionable doctorate captured her attention too. I’ve only you to cry my sorrows to, little Louise~”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

\----

As it turned out, the duel did happen. Well, something akin to a duel.

Louise only heard of the event from her “proper” Familiar later on, once Kirche was done doing her hair into a new coif (eh, why not? It’s a change of pace). The giant of a man – simply called Heavy, which seemed just a touch impolite from his peers, she thought – informed her that after a rather disastrous showing on Scout’s part, the “screaming eagle” (Soldier – who was insane even among this insane group, was Louise’s understanding) jumped in from nowhere and snapped the neck of the Valkyrie Guiche set out against the manboy.

Proclaiming the fight as “un-American”, it suddenly became two-on-one; or rather, two-on-however-many-Guiche-could-make (Louise had yet to understand what “American” was; her “familiars” were unwilling to explain so far). With the element of surprise gone, the two mercenaries were easy prey to an increasingly irate Guiche. Yet, before he could do something reckless, Spy simply showed up behind him, pressed a knife to his neck and simply said the duel is finished.

“That does sound like something he’d do.” Louise of old might have been affronted by the sheer gall to interrupt the Mage duel in such a barbarous way, but perhaps it was a lesson for Guiche as well. As long as he didn’t demand satisfaction from her, and Heavy’s recount made it obvious that he won’t, all should be well.

“So, what now?” The giant asked her. “Is there a way back home?”

“Not that I know of.” Louise shook her head. Now that he had some time to stay here, Heavy was less hostile to the general idea of staying here – even if he still didn’t like the runes. “...I apologize. I understand this is hard for you.”

“It’s trouble, yes. Not first time mage does that.” The pinkette blinked, suddenly very curious about _that_ particular story. Seeing the change on her face, Heavy nodded sagely. “Long story. Still, you apologized. Week ago, you were ready to whip at the question.”

“...I… well...” He wasn’t wrong. “It’s hard for me too. You and your team are my… sole… magical accomplishment.” Oh god, that felt pathetic to say.

“I do not know if that speaks well of you.”

“Well, you are the one Founder saw fit to mark with the runes, so maybe it could have been worse. It could have been Scout.” Oh Brimir. “Or that savage who throws his own urine at people.” Poor Siesta. The mental scarring would permit long after her maid outfit was restored to functionality. Heavy chuckled dryly, seemingly in agreement with their new Master/Boss (maybe she could just become their new Administrator for the time being. She certainly had more humility to her name).

“...whatever happens, I hope you can bear with me – and that I can bear with you.” Louise rubbed her temple. A giant hand came to meet her, stretched out for a handshake.

“Then we are in agreement.” The Heavy nodded. “I am Mikhail.” She blinked, not comprehending the words before recognition dawned on her. His name, a real one. A show of trust that she wasn’t sure if she had earned from the group yet.

Slowly, she returned the handshake, trying not to think of what would happen if he squeezed her hand too strongly. “...I am Louise. It’s nice to meet you.”


	2. Chapter 2

Each of the mercenaries had a particular weapon he specialized with.

Most of them were some kind of gun (apparently the kind of gun that made cutting-edge rifles of modernity look like an orc boomstick). Heavy’s had a name. The giant murdercannon with rotating barrels was named Sasha.

“There is also Natascha and Tomislav.” He nodded, currently in the middle of maintenance. Louise was privy to overseeing something no other man – not even from his outfit – had the privilege of. Heavy still made it clear that Sasha is not to be touched by anyone but himself. “Smaller, for stealth things.”

“...I’m baffled that any gun could do anything for “stealth”, let alone these.” She groused, watching the behemoth made of polished black steel. You could probably mount something like this on an airship, and it would still be on the larger end. Heavy shrugged.

“Silencers. Or just small baby guns, like pistols.”

“Why not use a crossbow?” The giant hummed thoughtfully at the question. Sniper did have a bow among his arms. Yet, before he could think on that, the doors to the room slammed open and in rushed Siesta, looking positively spooked out of her mind.

“Milady Vallière! C-come… come quick…!” And out of breath. Louise sighed and passed her the glass of water, for which the maid only nodded in thanks before greedily gulping it down. Heavy’s eyebrow was raised. “T-terrible… tragedy…!”

“Maid, take a deep breath and explain.”

“It’s the princess! Princess Henrietta!” Louise blinked, the name of the imminent monarch of Tristain and her childhood friend among the last ones that she expected Siesta to utter. Wait, did that mean she’s here?! And how did…? “Y-your familiars are holding her hostage!”

...oh.

“It’s the maniac in a pot helmet, isn’t it?” She thought she would be angrier – by all accounts, she should be horrified! - and yet all she could muster was disappointment at how utterly predictable this was. She was going to give Henrietta an earful for trying to sneak into the Academy grounds like that too, for a good measure (because something told her this wasn’t an official visit). “Does anyone else know?”

“N-no, Milady… Sir Demoman sent me to relay the news directly to you.” At least one of them had a head on their shoulders. Ah, who was she kidding, really… Exchanging a nod with Heavy, the two of them set off to, as it turned out, Void Tower of all places.

\----

There were obvious disadvantages to a monarch sneaking out of her castle to visit a friend undercover, but Henrietta de Tristain didn’t expect one of them to be “held at breakneck point by a lunatic”.

“You’re gonna start talking, you red menace?! Or do I have to show you the American way one broken rib at a time?!” Said maniac barked at her in a tone of a gruff mercenary soldier, globules of saliva flying all over the place with each word too loud. She was pretty sure she was deaf in one ear already.

“If a hair falls off her head, I’ll rip you apart!” The blonde knightess with a flintlock pistol aimed squarely at the Soldier glowered with cyclopean rage, herself held in place by a length of rusty longsword to her neck – held by a cyclops, no less.

“You cannot rip me apart, pinko hippie! I am one hundred percent American steel, unrippable by commie tricks!”

“What does that even mean, you lunatic?!” Demoman, currently holding the sword to the knightess’s neck – more to not get Soldier killed than out of any actual malice – could only sigh. Yes, two shadowy figures sneaking around the Academy grounds were suspicious enough to investigate, but the moment the princess said “Louise”, Soldier cut off all further train of thought and deemed her a socialist subversive, as he would.

To her credit, she was taking her forced captivity with much more dignity than her bodyguard – and with much more dignity than Scout, who seemed to find this a perfect time to try a pick-up line or several. “Look alive.” Sniper’s gruff voice alerted them to incoming danger. Their Australian-but-not-really companion had been their lookout ever since they’ve almost committed regicide. “Pinky’s here.”

“Pinky? Do you mean Louise Fr-”

“Aha! So you _do_ know her name!”

“Well, yes, she’s my childhood friend...”

“Good! She can do proper judgment unto you the likes of which only friends can!” The other mercenaries – as well as the knightess and the princess who were beginning to ease onto the situation, or at least as much as they could – all exchanged looks of doubt.

Speak of the devil, the pink Master/Boss walked in, stomping with purpose. Heavy and Siesta were right behind her. Louise took a moment to appraise the situation with a critical eye. “Hey, lil’ pink.” Scout greeted her with a nonchalant wave, perched away from imminent harm. She cast him a dirty look. “Got a damn fine taste in childhood friends, lemme tell ya.”

“I trust Scout’s been behaving?” She addressed Demoman about the issue.

“Aye. Just doing his usual flirting at gunpoint.”

“Right. Onto the main course...”

“Son, what I’ve got here is a commie spy.” Soldier’s voice carried a grave tone, like a father introducing their child to the grim reality of the world such as a dying grandparent or an expiring pet. Or a commie spy, in this particular case. He lifted Henrietta’s head up to demonstrate, the princess more uncomfortable with the odd position than threatened at this point. “I know it’s not easy, finding out a friend threw in with the Russkies, but we’re all American here, and you know what that means.”

“What in Brimir’s balls is Ameri-”

“Yes, all American.” Heavy cut into the knightess’s question with a voice of someone who had to cut in like that before. “Everywhere.”

“Sun Tzu once said “if you can’t kill an enemy, then leave it to someone else”. It’s a burden, but it’s also an honor, son.” Louise’s face was impassive, even as she was offered Henrietta’s own wand, cut into tasteful shapes of a royal focus – likely to commit the deed with for the poetic irony. “To remove the red menace from the world is something all men and women and all of those in-between should do with a smile.”

Louise planned to make some kind of cutting comment, a dry remark – but that last sentence threw her off fierce. “...you… _you colorblind tatterdemallion!_ Does she look like she’s red to you?!” Scout had much less decorum to begin with, so he concluded her outburst with a hysterical laughter. The Soldier remained nonplussed.

“Son, the red is metaphorical—“

“ _You’re wearing red_ _right now_ _, for fuck’s sake!_ I cannot with you people!”

“L-Louise Françoise, language!” Heavy rubbed the bridge of his nose, already feeling the headache coming up. The team generally let their tinpot-wearing maniac believe that he was in charge around here, but sometimes it caused… problems.

“This commie spy is your own Ol’ Yeller, son! Seize your literary fate and stab her right in the eye!”

“I’ll stab _you_ in the eye, Brimir’s balls! Unhand the Princ—“ And then, suddenly, clarity washed over her in realization. She might not have known what “American” was, but, frankly, she wasn’t sure if the Soldier himself knew that. Thus, she had to play along – and her discussions about the strange world the mercenaries came from left her with enough knowledge to know how.

Slowly, the pinkette straightened out, took a deep breath, and looked Soldier right in the eyes (the best she could). “Do you know who this is?” The man’s expression turned puzzled, as did the others. Only Heavy seemed to recognize where she was going with this, something of a proud smile dancing on his face.

“Y-yeah, that’s a—“

“This strapping young woman is the recently-christened _President of the United States!”_ The silence after that nonsensical statement was so deafening, Louise thought for a moment that this is the precious moment where her sanity goes pop. No such luck – which meant she had to keep going. “Her name is Henrietta Tristaneagle, and she is a patriot the likes of which were not seen since” She quickly racked her brain to recall the relevant name. “Abraham Lindquist!”

“You mean Lincoln?”

“Of course I mean Lincoln! This attack on all things American that you just did got me so irate, I can barely remember names of great men that are examples to us all!” She felt the utterly horrified look of Henrietta, her bodyguard, and Siesta’s all over her – most likely the three of them thought Louise snapped under the stress – but her own focus was on the Soldier relenting from committing to regicide. It seemed to be working, but she needed a coup de grace.

...she also needed to ignore Scout rolling on the floor in a fit of raucous laughter. “Her face deserves a place on Mount Rhode Island with the best of them, so help me God, you will let that hell of a woman go, or I’ll make a Hirosaki Harbor out of your sorry butt!” Also needed to ignore Henrietta lighting up like a red light. This might have been the hardest of the three things to disregard.

“...I’ve done a terrible thing.” The princess was thus freed as Soldier confronted his own folly of mistaking a Real Patriot for a Pinko Spy. Louise took a deep breath, watching the tinpot fall onto his knees in shame, then looked towards the knightess still being held at swordpoint and gestured for Demoman to release her. “Miss President, is there anything I can do to repay this sin of hubris?” Before Henrietta – still in a stupor – could voice herself on the matter, the pink locks turned sharply towards the Soldier once more.

“Twenty laps around the Academy, maggot, on the double!”

“Sir yes sir!” Off the Soldier went, through the window off the Void Tower. Louise took a moment to register his exit route before a terrified realization set in.

“...I’ll go find Doc.” Sniper sighed and excused himself from the scene right in time for the soft “THUMP” to reverberate outside, followed by a bunch of confused screaming.

\----

“...”hell of a woman”, Louise Françoise?”

“...I-it’s an American phrase, I was told.”

“What _is_ American?”

“...I wish I could tell you, honestly.”


	3. Chapter 3

The Academy’s Vault housed a number of artifacts.

Most of them were identified by esteemed professors of magic easily enough; venerable focuses, strange Elemental Stones, enchanted items… but some refused qualification. One of such items was Fool’s Gold – a solid bar seemingly identical to a normal gold bar, about the size of a forearm. Further analysis revealed it to be something that only resembled gold, its structure mindbogglingly absurd. It hummed with raw power, yes, but there was no way of containing such an unknown substance. Thus, it was better off sealed off in the Vault, waiting for a genius that would solve its mystery.

To Jean Colbert’s amusement, it took a genius – two even! - from another world entirely for that to happen. “This bar is one hundred percent genuine Australium.” The one Miss Vallière’s mercenaries referred to as “The Engineer” spoke with a tone of absolute certainty. “I am no praying man, professor, but this here is a bloody miracle.”

“What are its properties?”

“What _aren’t_ its properties, really?” The other genius – the bespectacled man with the strong Germanian accent – named simply The Medic chuckled softly, much more interested in other doodads in the Vault than the supposed miracle metal. “Australium is responsible for ze multitude of groundbreaking technologies it gave birth to. Teleportation, complete invisibility, ze fabled “mustache sciences”...”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Prolonged exposure also includes increased intelligence and virility both, as well as some serious hair growth.” Engie nodded sagely. “My grandpap’s last few photos have him lookin’ like an Australian shaved bear – but it was the damn smartest shaved bear out there.”

“What’s… a photo?” The two geniuses exchanged a look. Right, these were the Middle Ages.

“A picture, if you will. But nevermind that! Australium’s most curious ability, from mein field of sciences, of course...” Medic adjusted his glasses for a dramatic effect, the shine in his spectacles downright ominous. “is how it can reverse ze flow of time.” Colbert felt his brows furrow. Certain things were easier to believe than others, and this particular one was out there.

“Mind you, you’ll need a lot of this here Australium to do that.” Engineer laughed softly. “But a small dose can keep a man alive far past what God intended. My grandpap made two such things for the old rivals. You wouldn’t see more shriveled and lively husks anywhere else, at least until Gray Mann killed them both.”

“What else?”

“Well, ze ÜberChargeis something of a derivative from Australium’s more… indestructible properties.” The Medic explained, gleeful to ignore Colbert’s rising confusion. “Really, we could spend entire _Jahren_ talking about it.”

“We’d appreciate having it. Most of our tools were displaced when Lou summoned us here, so having such a base would be good to start with.”

By all means, the two made sense. Colbert, for all of his innate curiosity, found little purchase in the Fool’s Gold, unable to glance further than past the surface – yet, these two identified it with childish ease and already were discussing all possible uses for it. There would be some difficulties associated with handing over an artifact to basically strangers, but the educator doubted Osmond would give them much grief for it. As long as the Royal Messenger didn’t inquire about its sudden absence…

Further thought was interrupted when a giant stone hand smashed into the Vault.

\----

This was possibly the worst day in Louise’s life. This was no small claim to make.

The Academy was being targeted by the infamous Fouquet of the Crumbling Earth, riding atop his(?) giant golem and being completely unashamed about his intentions to ransack the Vault for artifacts. Normally, this kind of attack would be nothing: the Vault was protected by first-grade magic, Square-tier spells that would take great effort to dispel.

...apparently Louise’s Explosions could do that. What a time to find that out.

Some of her mercenaries were at the scene, but it was obvious they had a hard time against an opponent like this. Only Heavy was her proper Familiar, and even he found no purchase in hosing down the golem with gunfire (apparently it cost unthinkable money to fire this gun for longer than twelve seconds…). Oh yeah, gunfire. A very finite resource. Fouquet was nothing if not skillful in defensive magic, conjuring another barrier to ward off Sniper’s shots.

“The frick is with dis flippin’ thing?!” Scout groused, peeking from behind their improvised cover to watch Demo’s valiant efforts at fighting the thing with sword and board come up short as he was smashed into another wall. “Frickin’ Merasmus at least knew how to take a bat to the face...”

“The pilot is smart to shield themselves from harm, if nothing else.” Spy mused, his gun prepped to fire – for all it would do to her. “I don’t suppose your magic could do something about it?” He asked Louise. The pinkette made a face.

“There’s a difference between a static enchantment and a moving golem still on the ground.” She said, feeling her fists ball up in frustration. Founder, those men will get slaughtered, and it was no one’s fault but hers! Sure, they reassured her that they were made of sturdy stuff (apparently Medic’s “science” was involved), but that didn’t make watching Pyro get pulverized into the ground any easier.

“So we need a miracle, you say?”

“I don’t know if I’m deserving of those at this point...” But the miracle came.

The fire serpent flew from the hole in the Vault wall, forcing the golem back. In the hole stood none other than Jean Colbert. Fouquet bit back a curse. “That’s far enough, Fouquet of the Crumbling Earth!” The professor called out, his wand ready to do battle. “Surrender immediately, and you shall find yourself treated lightly—“

The golem struck with surprising speed, smashing right into the man so hard the cloud of dust obscured all vision. “PROFESSOR!” Louise called out, mortified. Spy’s firm hand kept her from jumping out of cover – the last thing they needed was for the girl to get herself killed. That was rather out of character for the level-headed professor, he thought. Out of character, unless…

The flame serpent roared again, cutting the golem’s arm into three neat pieces. “Bollocks! How the fu—“ Another gust of flames threw Fouquet off the golem… right into a huge arm of a shaved bear, holding her up by the scruff of her neck. So was her focus taken away by the other. “Unhand me, you lummox!” Heavy was more than happy to ignore Fouquet’s sputtering, instead looking up to the hole in the wall.

The dust cleared, revealing the figure of Jean Colbert… glowing with strange red patterns covering his entire body. The giant’s eyebrow rose. Doktor didn’t replace any hearts during their stay in Helkeginia (yet), and certainly wouldn’t have the means to do so (or a proper heart to begin with). How on earth…? The educator dropped down onto the ground, not any worse for wear as the ÜberCharge wore off. “How about that – it really is a miraculous solution.” He hummed with a curious tone, looking at himself not having sustained any damage from being hit with a fist bigger than he was tall.

“Y-you’re alive?!” This time Louise jumped from behind the makeshift cover, eyes wide as plates. Whatever that red glow was, it kept the professor safe from such overwhelming force…

“In no small thanks due to your men.” The pinkette blinked, then looked up to see both Engineer and Medic peeking from the hole in the wall. The bespectacled man had his strange “medigun” equipped (how did one make a gun that healed people? That just made no sense) and the one in the hard hat held a broken piece of something vaguely like gold. “They used Fool’s Gold from the Vault in conjunction with Mr. Medic’s craft to… well, provide me with this strange invulnerability.”

“...huh, so you can do that without a gorilla heart.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t mind the boy.” Spy cut in before Scout could sour Colbert on them with his big running mouth. “I didn’t expect Australium of all things to be here though.”

“Most of it was burned to simulate this, uh, this ÜberCharge effect, but—“

“Are you kidding me?!” Fouquet squirmed in Heavy’s grip, beyond incensed. The giant rolled his eyes with a weary sigh and took of the thief’s mask. Now that it was off, Louise could clearly see the infamous larcenist was none other than… Old Osmond’s secretary?! Not that she seemed too bothered by being found, chiefly due to palpable, incredulous anger written all over her face. “I came here to steal the wretched thing! You _burned_ it?!”

“You can explain yourself in due time, Miss Longueville.” Colbert replied with a stern look, eyes trailing away to see Demoman and Pyro holding each other up as they hobbled over to the rest of the group. “Are you in need of healing?”

“Nay, we’ll pull through. The hellthing hit hard, but we’ve survived worse things.” Demo shook his head with a wry smile. Pyro nodded with his(?) trademark “hudda” sound. “Ah, this lassie. We had a feeling something was up with her.”

“...what do you mean ‘you had a feeling’? Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Would you believe a Black Scottish Cyclops if he told you Osmond’s secretary might be up to no good?” Louise had to conclude after a moment of intensive thought that she probably wouldn’t, and especially not on a “feeling” alone. “Well, no point thinking of this now.

“...say...” Louise’s expression suddenly darkened. “Where is Soldier?” The mercenaries exchanged looks before finally setting on the Heavy. It seemed the giant had an idea.

“When Demoman first mentioned lady might be trouble, we got Soldier to go and do his own thing.”

“...that thing being?”

“An “interrogation room”. Something for commie spies.” Miss Longueville suddenly went tense in his grip. “This is Soldier, so rusty shovels are involved.”

“You wouldn’t give me out to some lunatic, would you?!” Colbert opened his mouth to protest the notion – they were not barbarians, and Fouquet still deserved a fair trial, among other things – but then Spy put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. The professor’s eyebrow rose before he turned back to the situation, watching Louise nonchalantly examine her nails.

“What was the last time when he “interrogated” a would-be subversive?” Her eyes quickly went over who would be willing the most to play ball here, and settled on Scout. The manboy grinned in understanding. “A bed of nails?”

“A bed of frickin’ nails, Lil’ Pink. And a really angry rooster.”

“An angry rooster that was fed nothing but dog livers for three days.”

“Oh man, don’t forget the eagle.”

“The one singing Yellow Rose of Texas backwards?” Louise smiled thinly. “Hard to forget such a haunting elegy—“

“BRIMIR’S BALLS, ENOUGH!” Fouquet shrieked fearfully. Yes, all of this sounded like garbled nonsense, but Vallière’s men were all positively insane. She didn’t doubt for a second that they would do something like that, and make Romalia’s finest technicians look like mere novices in the process. “I’ll do anything! Just don’t send me anywhere near that madman!” Louise smiled, this time almost menacingly. An impromptu plan coming up together like that was only possible with such a wayward company.

Founder, was she grateful for it. “Well then, Miss Longueville… why not tell us who sent you here first?”


	4. Chapter 4

“Gentlemen, I want to make this crystal clear: you will _all_ be on your best behavior.”

Frankly, Louise was surprised it took this long for her Mother to express interest in her summons. After all, not only was it a success, but also such an unusual one. This gaggle of ordinary men had managed to stop and apprehend the audacious Fouquet of the Crumbling Earth, as well as get her to tell that she was acting on Reconquista’s orders (with Professor Colbert’s humble assistance), and were rewarded with titles of Chevalier each. Louise was quick to remind Scout this did not really make them equal to the noble class – it was more of a golden metal than an actual reward.

She too received her own Chevalier title, despite not having put any real effort into the action. Henrietta insisted that a Master should be rewarded together with her Familiars with a conspirator’s wink, and so she too received her golden medal.

Now, with two carriages approaching the Vallière mansion, she had to lay out some ground rules for her mercenaries (in the other carriage, Mikhail was doing the same with the rowdier four; Louise figured they were more likely to listen to him than her) so that her Mother wouldn’t smear them all over the walls. “You’re all about to meet my family, and all of them are likely to judge you on your first impression. Cattleya aside.” Hopefully her softhearted sister was doing okay. “I will not have you make clowns of yourselves, mostly because I would rather not have you lose limbs or worse.”

“Good thing I’m as sober as a newborn then.” Demoman laughed uproariously. “You needn’t worry, lassie.”

“Words like these _will_ make me worried.” That got the usually quiet Sniper to snort in amusement. Louise glowered, decidedly unamused. “Something funny?”

“Don’t mind the bushman.” Spy shook his head with a sigh, idly twirling the unlit cigarette between his fingers. Lighting it here, in this small carriage was bound to be met with extreme displeasure of the other passengers. “Naturally, we’ll do our best to keep things civil. We’re professionals, after all.” Louise shot him an unimpressed look. “Most of us, anyway.”

“Is your Ma really that scary?” Engie inquired curiously. The pinkette slumped a little in her seat.

“I don’t know if “scary” does her justice. My mother is the finest Tristain has to offer in terms of mages and nobility both. Her standards are high – and I can only pray to Founder that you will squeeze into the bare minimum of adequacy.” Louise tented her fingers together. Brimir’s balls, she had no actual reason to be worried like that, right? Even if Scout or Soldier tried doing something, the others would bring them back to the level. They couldn’t all be so eager to part with this earth, could they? They apprehended Fouquet, for crying out loud! That was an achievement, right? “As will I...”

“No offense, Lou, but you’re probably the last person who needs to worry here.” The pinkette looked at Engie incredulously. “Ain’t none of your fault that you got us and not something else.”

“Although I do wager that a mere beast might have had worse luck with stopping Miss Loungeville.” Spy countered with an amused hum.

“And wouldn’t nearly kill the reigning princess of the country, mate.” Sniper chortled. Spy shot him a dirty look. Demoman laughed, slapping his knee.

“You don’t need to worry, lassie. What’s the worst that could happen?”

\----

In hindsight, Tavish de Groot should have known to put a boot in his mouth.

“I’ve seen better wizards in Tom Jones’s apartment, you Pinko menace!” Soldier growled from up up in the sky, spinning in circles in the air by the virtue of potent Wind magic. The culprit – Louise’s mother, face carefully cut in an expression of extremely strained patience – did little circling motions with her wand, looking poised to drop him from this extreme height at a moment’s notice.

A short distance away, Louise’s oldest sister was letting her displeasure be known with the summoner herself. “This is absolutely unacceptable, Little Louise!” The bespectacled blonde said, tugging on the pinkette’s ear. “It’s bad enough you summon nine commoners, but these are one step away from filthy ruffians!”

“Owowowow…! Éléonore, you’ll pull my ear off…!” 

“I take great offense to being called a “ruffian”.” Spy grumbled. Sniper opened his mouth to comment on that, but a single dirty look from the Frenchman had him reconsider. Perhaps this really wasn’t the time.

“We did start off on a wrong foot, admittedly.” Engie sighed, watching Pyro watching Soldier spin in the air with a look of childlike wonderment. Whatever the arsonist saw through its mask, it must have been great. “But Soldier is… well, he’s an odd one, to put it lightly.”

“An “odd one” is not a phrase I would use.” The bespectacled blonde growled in response, mercifully letting go of Louise’s ear before it came off. “I don’t need a translator to tell he insulted Mother to her face, in the crudest of manners.”

“To be fair, he would have done that to anyone regardless of their station.” It seemed Engie’s explanation left Louise’s older sister thoroughly unimpressed.

“Please do not kill Soldier.” Heavy sighed, words directed right to the Duchess. Louise’s eyes widened in shock. Was he as mad as the rest of them, after all? Addressing her mother so directly, so _brazenly…_ it’s like he was courting death on purpose. The duchess gave him a measured look – yet there was ice in her eyes that could freeze a dragon twice over.

“What makes you think you’re in position to negotiate with me, familiar?”

“Common courtesy. Tact. _Noblesse oblige_.”

“Uh, bless you?” Scout interjected not-too-wisely. Louise could feel Spy’s growing indignation at the manboy all the way from there.

“Common courtesy goes both ways.” The duchess was unimpressed with the big mercenary’s vocabulary. Am I to take insults to my face at my own home as some kind of virtuous quality?”

“Of course not.” Heavy shook his head. “But let us punish Soldier. Master knows what must be done.” Louise blinked, realizing she was suddenly brought into the conversation she had no want to join. She _did_ know what to do – they’ve been through it with the situation at the Void Tower – but she wasn’t sure if she _wanted_ to right in front of her mother and elder sister.

Curses! Why couldn’t her father join them to soften the first impression…?

“Louise.” The pinkette barely resisted an urge to run once her mother opted to address her. She wasn’t looking at her, still in a staring contest with Heavy. “I shall leave the format of punishment to you. Once you are done, make sure to let this man know he is welcome to wait outside the mansion.” Then the duchess’s eyes wandered to Pyro, still busy staring at the Soldier in the sky. “Together with the pyromaniac.”

“...y-yes, Mother. Of course.”

“Good. Éléonore, you will bear witness to Louise’s conduct regarding her unruly Familiar.” The blonde opened her mouth to protest, but a single icy look from the duchess had her reconsider. “The two of you” The duchess cast Spy and Engie a single look each. “will accompany me as I question you regarding your outfit’s conduct.”

“With our Master’s permission, I surmise?” Spy allowed himself the slightest of mirthless smiles. Louise’s mother simply cast her daughter a single look.

“Y-yes, of course! I mean, er… yes.” Louise, for her part, just wanted this visit to be over. The duchess nodded and lowered Soldier down to an acceptable height before dropping him to the ground like a sack of potatoes. The American patriot’s rise for a counterattack was swiftly arrested with Medic’s – and Medic’s bonesaw’s – assistance.

Once her mother and her chosen mercenaries left the premises, Louise sagged with a weary sigh. “...Soldier… do you have any idea who this woman was just now?”

\----

“Mother, I have… concerns.”

Karin did not turn to look at Éléonore, eyes fixed on the carriages leaving back for the Academy. In there rode her youngest daughter, thought by all to be a laughingstock incapable of casting even the simplest spells. Whatever predicament befell Louise, her mother did not know. She did however see with her own eyes that her daughter’s hard work has born fruit: nine men in a unit, with the big one being designated a Familiar by the ritual, might have looked unimpressive – comical, even – but there was something behind those farcical personages.

Karin had seen her fair share of battles and warriors both. She had seen valiant knights and bloodthirsty scoundrels, those bound by duty and those who only followed the chime of Écu. While the men Louise summoned were no doubt mercenaries, they followed her word and they stood by her even in spite of all the little mockeries, taunts, and oddities plaguing them.

“What is the matter, Éléonore?”

“I… realize this is a bold claim to make, but I’m beginning to think the result of the summoning might have affected Louise’s mind further than I would have suspected.” The punishment her youngest daughter gave to the man in a tin pot – after gracing him with a scathing tirade so ridiculous it had to make sense, somehow – was to run around the estate until his feet tired from the exertion. A few others from the outfit oversaw the event, with the man in the white coat continuing to ensure he wouldn’t tire out too easily.

By the time they were leaving, the Soldier was still running laps. “That, or one of those ruffians did something to her.” The blonde shuddered, arms wrapping around herself. “But I dare not guess.”

“Your worry is understandable, but misplaced. I think Louise only grew as a person and as a noble.” Turning to her daughter, and seeing her quizzed expression, Karin decided to elaborate. “She wrangles her men with exceptional poise, even if she has to use strange means for it. You remember your sister to be quite prideful, yes? Yet, she did not let her station affect her interactions with these nine.”

“S-still...”

“She may look like her nerves are frayed, but I can see these experiences only hardened her.” It was said the Springtime Summoning Ritual was designed to deliver the most compatible familiar to the mage in question. Karin could see how these nine ordinary, ever so slightly mad mercenaries ended up being Louise’s entourage. She might not have shared their whimsy, but they were a manifestation of her power: weak on the outside, but with a hidden strength within; obscured by their demeanor and their unassuming appearances. “I trust she and her men will accomplish great things in the future.”

The future. Perhaps her daughter really could achieve her dreams. Karin smiled fondly. “I couldn’t be more proud of her.”

**Author's Note:**

> TF2 x FoZ has been on my mind for a while now, so I decided to pour some of that onto the metaphorical paper. With my big fics currently standing still, I just wanted to write down something small and unassuming. Whether this will be expanded upon, I do not know; but there will be no sprawling narrative here - only silliness and Louise struggling to adjust to having nine loons under her employ.
> 
> Hope it's to your liking. c:


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